


Mean Trick-Ass Clone Shiro

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) Whump, Protective Keith (Voltron), Season/Series 05, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Sick Character, Sick Lance (Voltron), Sickfic, mean clone shiro, trick-ass clone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-26 15:56:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13861083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Lance asks permission to skip a mission because he's sick, but mean clone Shiro doesn't care. Keith finds out and is not . happy.





	Mean Trick-Ass Clone Shiro

Lance let out an irritated sigh when he scanned the common room and found everyone except the one person he was looking for.

“Has anyone seen Shiro?” he asked. The lights were dim in here, but that didn’t mean they weren’t still bothering his throbbing eyes. He’d been content to blame the headache he’d gone to bed with on the period of time they’d spent low on oxygen, but when he woke up to find that not only had it increased tenfold, but had apparently decided to invite the rest of his limbs and his throat to the party, he had to admit it to himself--he was sick. 

“He’s brooding in the hologram room, I think,” Pidge said. “What do you need him for? Anything we can do?” She knew he’d been… touchy, as of late, particularly with Lance, and it had become a sort of unspoken rule to keep them apart from one another, mostly for Lance’s sake.

“Nah, I just need to talk to him for a minute,” he replied. 

“Want one of us to go with you?” Hunk asked. 

Lance’s temper was a bit short with how crummy he felt, and the insinuation that he couldn’t hold his own against their friend was irritating, but he bit his tongue and forced a smile instead. No reason to start a fight.

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured, “it’ll be quick.”

\---------------------------------------

Shiro wasn’t even doing anything, not really. A hologram, stationary and silent, of a planet’s surface sat before him, blurring in and out--or was that Lance’s vision? He really needed to sit--and Shiro’s eyes were trained to it, unmoving. 

“Hey, Shiro?” he asked, frowning when he startled visibly. “Are you okay?” 

Shiro nodded, closing the projector and meeting Lance’s eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. I must’ve zoned out for a minute.”

“If you’re sure... “ Lance accepted, afraid to push it further. “Uh, hey. There was something I wanted to ask you.”

Shiro leaned forward curiously. “Oh? Go ahead.”

A steadying breath. “I was wondering if I could maybe… hang back here on the mission today.” Shiro’s face showed no expression, so Lance backtracked. “I mean, obviously if you need me there, I’ll be there,” he floundered, “but I… I’m really not feeling well, and I think I just…? I’m sorry, I know it’s inconvenient.”

Shiro stood from his chair and sighed, stepping toward the door so that he was no longer facing Lance. “No,” he said simply.

“No?” Lance echoed confusedly. “‘No’ what?”

“No, I’m sorry, but we need you on this mission, and I can’t let you out of it. Unless you’re severely ill, you’ll be reporting to the Lions with me and Keith in ten minutes.”

Lance was stunned as Shiro walked out the door, leaving him alone and shivering in the projection room. “Yes, Sir,” he said softly. Of all things, he hadn’t expected Shiro to deny his request. Maybe he hadn’t anticipated the warm, worried reaction that he’d have gotten before he’d disappeared, but he thought Shiro would at least send him down to the med bay to be checked over by Coran. He took a deep breath to steady himself--he wouldn’t cry, damn it. Even though he was sick, in space, light years away from anyone who even cared that he wasn’t feeling well; even though his long-time hero had just told him that it didn’t matter if he was sick so long as the mission went well; even though the pain in his head was nearly unbearable by this point. He’d suck it up for Shiro. He’d earn his way back into his good graces despite not knowing how he’d fallen out of them.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The surface of the planet was rugged and harsh. The suits were having a hard time regulating the temperature, or at least Lance’s was--he was shifting between being melting hot and freezing cold. 

“Keep up, you two,” Shiro barked from ahead of them--much farther ahead than he normally walked.

“It’s a--ugh, gross,” Keith muttered, trying to lift his boot up from the pocket of mud that had just swallowed it, “it’s a little tough to keep up with you when you’re walking so fast,” he fought. It was something Lance was thinking but would never say. Keith could get away with a comment like that; Keith could get away with anything, because Shiro loved Keith. 

Lance wasn’t often anxious, and maybe it was a combination of the fever and the migraine, but he was feeling very anxious now. His brain was overthinking everything to the point where he was biting his lips to trap moans of pain before they could escape, afraid that if he complained again, that Keith and Shiro would be angry. 

But keeping his illness to himself was easier said than done, especially when every step he took made his bones ache more and he felt like the ground was tipping under him. He and Keith were both fighting through the mud when the dizziness got to be too much and he tripped forward, instinctively grabbing anything he could reach to keep himself from hitting the ground.

When everything stopped spinning for long enough to focus, he realized that he’d fallen flat on his back in the mud and tugged Keith on top of him so that they were face to face. Keith’s face was bright red from embarrassment, and Lance was sure he was flushed too, but not quite for the same reasons. 

Keith looked irritated, and Lance couldn’t help an anticipatory wince.

“You good?” Keith asked instead. Lance opened his eyes, confused and tentative, to see a begrudgingly concerned-looking Keith. “You fell kinda hard… and you spaced out pretty bad.”

Lance sat up as soon as Keith moved off him. “Yeah,” he lied, “I’m good. Just--got kinda dizzy.”

That set off alarm bells. Keith offered his hand to hoist Lance up and guided him to a rock to sit. “Shiro,” he called, rolling his eyes when there was no reply. “Shiro!” he shouted, louder this time. 

“What?” came the exasperated reply, and Shiro poked his head through the vines to look at them.

“We need to take a water break,” Keith informed. “Lance got dizzy and fell.” 

Shiro nodded and began to take the water pouches from their emergency kit. He tossed one lazily to Keith, who caught it, and the second to Lance, whose chest it bounced off of and onto the ground. Keith picked it up for him and poked the straw through the top, assuming Lance’s hands were shaking too much to do it himself.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve got some water in you,” Keith reassured. 

As soon as Lance had finished his pouch, Shiro turned ahead once more. “Let’s get moving,” he commanded, “we’ve already lost some sunlight.”

Lance flushed an even deeper red and looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, Shiro,” he apologized weakly. 

Keith sighed. “Don’t worry about that,” he whispered so that only Lance could hear, “are you feeling better?”

Lance wasn’t, not really. His head was still pounding and on top of that, he was freezing cold and still dizzy. “I’ll be fine,” he dodged, “come on. I don’t want to make him more mad at me.” 

Lance staggered when he stood, and Keith steadied him by the shoulders, but before he could ask what was wrong or examine him further, Lance had pushed out of his grip and was following their leader.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Another two hours and the sun was setting completely, though they were still quite a distance away from their destination. Keith kept enforcing water breaks, and though Shiro was annoyed, Lance was grateful--honestly, without the frequent rests, Lance was sure he’d have collapsed by now.

Everything ached. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this bad--certainly not before they’d left the Garrison, and certainly not at school. Really, Lance wasn’t sure he ever  _ had _ felt this bad in his entire life. That thought scared him a little, and the stress was making his headache a lot worse. 

“I think it’s time to make camp for the night,” Shiro announced. “We’ve got to set everything up while there’s still a little daylight left.” 

Lance deliriously felt that statement was aimed at him. “Sorry,” he muttered again, not looking up. His eyes hurt too much to move them. He let his knees collapse so he was sitting in the dirt. 

“Woah, hey,” Keith startled, dropping next to him. “You alright?”

Before Lance could answer past a shrug, Shiro was barking out another order. “Keith, you make shelter. Lance, you make a fire. I’m going to patrol the area to make sure we’re safe.”

Lance saluted weakly and began to gather sticks and leaves from the forest, quickly growing irritated and tossing them around. “Why’s everything  _ wet _ ?” he grumbled, “I can’t find any dry sticks.”

Keith glanced over his uncharacteristically short-tempered friend with a frown. “Are you okay? Honestly,” he said, cutting Lance off before he could make an excuse, “you’re not yourself.” Lance cringed at the familiarity of the words, hearing Shiro’s voice saying them, hearing Shiro’s voice shouting at him. He felt like a disappointment all over again. “I know things have been tense… but we’re still a team. You can tell me things. And you can tell Shiro things.”

Lance scoffed out loud, which he didn’t mean to do. “Right,” he said sarcastically. 

“What do you mean?” 

Lance looked away, back to the small pile of the dryest leaves and sticks he could find--which were still pretty damp by normal standards--and began to hit the flint above it, blowing on the sparks at they hit the kindling. 

“Never mind,” he said between breaths, “forget it.” 

“No, what’s up? You’ve been quiet all day… and you’re pale.”

Finally, the sparks caught, and the fire went from nonexistent to roaring in a matter of seconds, causing Lance to recoil with his hands over his eyes.

“Lance?!” Keith cried, dropping the canopy leaf he’d been securing to the shelter’s frame, “did you get something in your eyes? Let me look.” He took a knee in front of Lance, but he shook his head.

“No, I’m--s’just a headache,” he slurred, the pain making his jaw tight. 

“A headache?” Keith repeated. Lance nodded, but his hands didn’t move from over his eyes. “The light of the fire hurt it?” Lance nodded again. “It must be pretty bad then… how long have you had it?”

Lance shrugged. “Last night,” he admitted. He shifted closer to the fire, letting out a frustrated groan when he couldn’t sit close enough to be warmed by it without being able to see the light through the gaps in his fingers. “God, it’s cold.”

Keith’s hands hovered over Lance’s shoulders nervously. “You’re shivering,” he pointed out.

“It’s  _ cold _ ,” Lance repeated. 

“It’s not that bad,” Keith said, feeling immediately guilty when Lance looked as if he’d been scolded again.

“Sorry,” he said, “m’not trying to whine. You can keep doing--whatever you’re doing.”

Keith frowned. “That’s not--no, Lance,” he stammered, “I’m not mad. I’m worried. You seem--sick.” 

Lance shrugged, and Keith pressed a hand to his forehead, his eyes widening at the heat he found there. “Holy--you’re on freaking fire,” he exclaimed. Lance opened his eyes to look at the arm and leg closest to the fire and shook them a bit, then looked confused. 

“No I’m not,” he argued. 

“Not like that, dummy. You’ve got a fever. A high one.”

Lance exhaled, sounding a little relieved. “Oh, that.”

“Yes, ‘that’! Why didn’t you say something?”

Lance glared. “I did,” he snapped.

Both paladins looked up when they heard a rustling through the bushes, Keith drawing his knife, but relaxed when Shiro emerged. “The perimeter is secure,” he announced. “Lance, good job with the fire.” Despite everything, Lance smiled. “Keith, your shelter is lacking. Get Lance to help you while I set a few more traps.”

Keith stood and grabbed Shiro by the wrist to hold him back. “Wait,” he said, “look. Lance is sick. He’s got a migraine and--”

Shiro flicked his wrist out of Keith’s grip. “That again?” he asked. 

“What do you mean, ‘again?’” 

Shiro sighed. “Did you make that fire, or did Lance?”

Keith looked confused. “What?”

“Look, Lance already tried to get out of the mission by claiming a headache, so I’m asking you: did you help him build the fire, or did he do it?”

Keith floundered. “You’re not listening to me,” he said, “Lance is sick, and he--,”

“Lance, you can’t rely on other people to do things for you,” Shiro scolded. “You have to pull your weight, or you’re gonna bring the whole team down.” 

Keith couldn’t help the anger that rushed through his veins so hotly that he reached out and shoved Shiro by the shoulders. “He’s sick!” Keith shouted, biting his cheek when Lance whimpered at the volume of his voice. “He’s got a migraine and a really high fever, and he needs medical attention, not a lecture,” Keith growled. “What the hell is the matter with you? You knew he was sick before we got here?”

Shiro at least found the decency to look guilty. “I--I didn’t know he had a fever,” he defended.

“Did you check?”

He shifted from foot to foot like a toddler being scolded. “No,” he admitted. He took a step toward Lance. “How high is the fever?” But Keith intercepted him.

“It’s bad,” he said, “but you’re not touching him. Not while you’re acting like--” he fumbled for the words he wanted, gesturing angrily, “like this robot! You’ve been cold and mean ever since we got you back, and it--it sucks! The old Shiro would never let someone go out on a mission sick, especially not without being scanned. He could be seriously ill because of you, and even if he’s not, this is the last place he needs to be right now.”

Shiro stepped back away from Lance. “What can I do?” he asked, “What does he need?”

Keith calmed a bit. “Water, for starters,” he said in a more measured tone, “and we need to get in touch with Allura for rescue. We need to call this one short and get Lance into a pod.” 

“No!” Lance cried. He’d been silent for so long that Keith honestly had doubted he was awake anymore, but when he looked over, he immediately found himself catching Lance as he tried to stand and pitched forward dizzily. “We can’t end the mission now,” he mumbled, “Gotta prove--” he broke off, breathing almost like he was about to cry.

“Prove what, Lance?” Keith asked softly. 

“Prove I’m not a hindrance to the team,” he bemoaned. “Prove I can help. I can do it. I promise.”

Shiro looked almost as miserable as Lance. “I did this,” he realized aloud, “this is my fault.” 

Keith glared. “Then fix it,” was all he said before turning away and dragging a protesting Lance back beside the fire. “Hey, come on; stop struggling.” 

Lance looked dangerously close to tears as he watched Shiro walk away. “Is he mad?” 

Keith felt something inside him crumble. “No, Lance,” he said, “he feels guilty because he should have gotten you help hours ago. He’s the one who messed up, not you.” 

Lance pressed his hands to his eyes once more, and Keith pretended to believe it was just the headache. “He’s not mad? You’re not mad?”

Keith held him close. “No one’s mad,” he promised. “Please get some sleep, okay?”

“But the mission--” 

“Can wait,” Keith interrupted. “You need a pod, and Shiro… we’re gonna figure out what’s going on with him, too.”

Lance nodded. “Don’t be too hard on him,” he pleaded. “He’s trying his best. Promise?”

Keith had a few choice responses to that, but instead of arguing, he just nodded. “Fine,” he agreed. “As long as it gets you to rest.” 

Keith sat in silence until Shiro came back. “Hunk’s coming to retrieve Lance, and you and I will finish the mission while he recovers at the Castle,” he announced quietly. “How’s he doing?”

“Not great, thanks to you,” Keith bit. “What were you thinking?”

Shiro shook his head slowly. “I… I don’t even know. It’s like… it’s like I don’t have control over myself.”

“Well, you’d better learn it, if you want to keep leading this team,” he warned. “Once the others find out you made Lance come here this sick, it might already be too late for that, though, anyway.”

Shiro flinched. “Everyone’s that angry?”

“Everyone except one person,” Keith said, gesturing to Lance. “Want to know what he asked me right before he fell asleep?” He didn’t wait for Shiro to reply. “He told me to go easy on you because you were trying your best.” Shiro looked ashamed, and Keith felt no urge to relieve that. In fact, he felt a certain satisfaction in knowing that if Lance was cooking in his own body with fever, at least Shiro was stewing in the shame of letting it happen. 

A moment of clarity washed through him. “I’m going to make it up to him,” he promised. “Even if the only way to do that is to step down as leader.”

Keith didn’t let the shock show on his face as he nodded. “I told you that if something happens to me, that I want you to lead Voltron, right?” Keith met Shiro’s eyes. “Well, if I ever hurt Lance, or any of you, like this again…” he averted his eyes away from Keith’s and to the sky. “I want you to promise you’ll take me down.”

They sat in silence; Keith’s stunned, Shiro’s guilty, and Lance’s feverish; until rescue arrived.


End file.
